Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) Support Group
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The Beekeeper Allergy has caused a knotty not in my head. My leap of the week was admitting to hubs that I am feeling urges to screech like a cartoon stereotype around the hives. . . I have not even been able to turn my compost since the three stings which brought the new reaction to stings into evidence. Even in casual conversation, when hubs turns his network management energies to bee keeping, I am finding my flight instincts trying to kick in. Among my anxious thoughts (delusions? denial?) is that I have not developed an allergy to bee venom. The allergy is executive energy in the bee hive. The mobbing which is suspected to have tipped the balance happened in conjunction with executing one of his executive commands. My beloved is working on that bossy perfection, butttttaaaa. . . He was born and raised with it. . . The mobbing happened during the move mandated by his father selling the farm. My hands were insufficiently protected because hubby's gloves were in one of the valuable antiques the FIL's employees carted off to a storage unit.
Setting aside the cartoon image of myself screeching like a cartoon stereotype. . . The stings I received during the last compost turning were acutely uncomfortable, but did not feel anywhere near fatal.
No, I have not talked to doctors about this. I have been looking, but it seems more likely I will find a doctor with welding skills than bee knowledge. References will be checked before I bother talking to the receptionist to initialize that process. . . Not my personal fave of the 21st century rituals. . .
My current goal is to reclaim the compost pile which sits to the side of the hives in the back yard. I have gotten as far as placing the tree branches which fell during the recent thunderstorms. Small steps.
Setting aside the cartoon image of myself screeching like a cartoon stereotype. . . The stings I received during the last compost turning were acutely uncomfortable, but did not feel anywhere near fatal.
No, I have not talked to doctors about this. I have been looking, but it seems more likely I will find a doctor with welding skills than bee knowledge. References will be checked before I bother talking to the receptionist to initialize that process. . . Not my personal fave of the 21st century rituals. . .
My current goal is to reclaim the compost pile which sits to the side of the hives in the back yard. I have gotten as far as placing the tree branches which fell during the recent thunderstorms. Small steps.
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I don't really know how to label this but I having a rough week and I can't say it's one thing.... I have a lot on my plate which is nothing new and I try to cope in many positive ways and do but I still have my moments.My kids more so my daughters talk to me about everything which I know it's cause of comfort and we are close.... however I really struggle with the venting about their dad which...
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I did the dumbest thing today. I charged my earbuds, unplugged the block and put the block in my little bag instead of the earbuds. I wasn't happy about that when I got to the gym. What a dummy!
If I remember correctly, we only have so much ability to fend off the venom, and it goes down with each sting.
I guess you can either try to manage the beekeeping, or try something else. Or a middle of the road tactic would be to groom an apprentice...
Best of luck. I find it very therapeutic to blow smoke out my ears once in a while.
I'd say get an epi pen for safety. Sort of like how I view my PRN anxiety med. I have it with me always, but hey, that mere knowledge calms me sometimes. It's like having your own life jacket on an overseas flight. Sure, you won't need it, but the "what if" list gets shorter if you do. That's how I'm seeing it, so forgive any myopia.
Gentle purrs.
Deli's solution of blowing smoke out my ears is among the most believable knowledge I have found on the subject so far.
Ya works with what ya gots.
Carried three more wagon loads of fallen branches to the compost pile this morning. Sent hubs off to the outyard by himself. The outyard is in a flood plane on Brushy Creek. A worriesome fact in our current weather conditions. We have lost 3 of the six hives we moved from Washington on the Brazos. Hubs even let me act out the cartoon stereotype as I sent him off. I was able to keep the acting out humorous. I think. I hope. I pray. . . Small steps.
Here's some info I found that I "hope" is accurate....xo
http://allergycases.blogspot.ca/2005/06/venom-allergy-short-review.html
I went to my first meeting last night. It is going to be a nice addition to my toolbox. Going to check out some others during the coming week. Thank you kindly!!!
I still don't know what is going on with the new allergy, but me and the bees are still tight. Just got a few new knots to untangle. I am pretty good at that. . . If I wasn't born with the talent, PTSD recovery sure taught me the skill.